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Dagny blinked. “Um, they . . . they, I think they’re in the upper library.”
Logical. The room was the largest intact space in the ruins, and it didn’t have windows. I nudged Dagny toward the entrance. “Go. Luca and the others are out there. They’re coming.”
“I’m not leaving my son!”
Dagny was frantic. She’d need to forgive my briskness later. I gripped her chin and pulled her face close. “You will go now, and you will leave the littles to me. Get out of here. I will not risk my life worrying for yours.”
I’d known Dagny since we were children. It meant I knew what spurred her into action. She had enough trust in me to stand aside, to know I would not leave these ruins without her boy. Fresh tears blurred her eyes, but she nodded.
“Fight to the end, Kase.” She rasped out, then leaned closer, venom in her words. “Make them pay.”
Dagny sprinted for the entrance as Valen roared and bit down on the hand of a redheaded fae warrior. The warrior shrieked as the king gnawed off three of his fingers, then rammed a battle axe into his chest with one hand, shredding half his cheek off with the claws of his other.
I jolted when a skydguard stabbed Valen through the ribs. The first instinct was to run to him, to save him, but all the wound did was draw Valen’s attention. The guard had his bowels spilling onto the stones in three breaths.
“We need to get to the second floor,” I told Halvar.
“We’ll lead Valen through the hallways. You get upstairs,” he said. “Tor. Light the signal. It is time to show these bastards what becomes of them when they raise a blade against our people.”
Tor opened one fist. Blue flames rippled over his fingers. He wrapped his fiery palm around a tree. In an instant, the flames devoured the branches and rose upward in the courtyard.
The writhing signal went up in the night; the time had come.
Battles were beginning.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-FOUR
THE MEMORY THIEF
Hold.
If one more damn person told me to hold, I would stab them. A full toll had gone by, and we’d been pummeled by distant screams, wails, and shouts, but not the bleeding signal.
Each shriek, or roar, or cry of pain had Elise flinching at my side.
She looked like a warrior in her battle leathers with weapons strapped to her waist. But inside, I had few doubts, she was but shattered glass. I knew the feeling. Valen was cursed, but for now, at least he could not die.
I could not say the same of my husband.
What was taking so bleeding long? My blissful optimism had rooted the thought in my head that with a beast, with blades, with mesmer we would be claiming victory perhaps half a toll after I bid farewell to Kase.
The air grew thick with tension, the smell of foul, spicy sweat, and leather. This was a turning point. A notion we all understood. From this moment on, all regions in the East would know the thieves in the shadows had declared war against the Black Palace.
“Malin.”
I looked over my shoulder. Bard, Hagen, and Hob were in the lead. Behind them were the rest of the Kryv.
I narrowed my eyes at the hawker. “Hob, you were staying with Inge.”
The fool was dressed in leathers with vambraces on his wrists.
“Thought about what you said. Chose not to listen.”
“Is this how it will be if I am queen? Giving orders, and having folk pick and choose what they obey?”
“Likely.” Hob adjusted a strap across his shoulder. “Embrace your kingdom of vagabonds, Mal. Cherish it. Love it.”
I rolled my eyes, facing Bard. He’d been the one to call my name.
